


Another Dearest

by enmity



Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Series
Genre: F/M, Half-Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enmity/pseuds/enmity
Summary: Teresa's always been an expert in masking her feelings, but she should know the effort is wasted on him.





	Another Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> _another dearest is the prince who's unable to become king_ (a flashback + my take on the Church Scene (tm)  & me laughing incredulously @ how many suicide missions oscar gets sent to)

Oscar remembers the first time Teresa smiled, truly smiled, for him. It was a memory from his childhood, when he was too young to understand the condemnation in his family’s eyes, veiled beneath the severe looks they threw his sister’s way; it bothered him regardless, the way they never spoke of Teresa, the imperceptibly slight way her shoulders tensed whenever he mentioned his father around her, and when he came into her room one autumn evening to ask her if something was wrong, if she was being mistreated somehow, all she replied with was a reticent shake of the head and a smile so splinter-fragile, he thought it could just snap. The moonlight falling in through the window illuminated the shaky upturn of her mouth. _It’s nothing, Oscar_ , she said tersely. _You shouldn’t worry about me. After all, I’m just a—_

But he, all of eight years old, didn’t let that deter him.

_Don’t say that! Even if Mother and Father think otherwise… you’re family to me. And I don’t like to see you sad._

He clutched her hand, slipping his fingers in between hers – feeling where her skin had started to coarsen from work; a distinct foreignness compared to the remembered softness of Mother’s hands, but not an entirely unwelcome one, either – and looked at her with eyes as wide and serious as a little boy could manage. Duty was one thing, but that didn’t mean Oscar didn’t hate it whenever Teresa withdrew into her role as the maid when they were playing together. The glow in her expression dimming with hurt, as though she’d been pricked by a reminder of something ugly. As though a maid was the only thing she amounted to.

 _I’m your brother, aren’t I? I care about you! If there’s something wrong, can’t you tell me? I just don’t understand_ , Oscar said at last, letting her go as the angry defiance in his voice petered out.

In the stillness of the room, being told she is loved, Teresa’s glassy veneer of composure couldn’t help but shift. She shuddered and pulled him towards her, two lonely children shivering in the autumn chill. She fluttered her fingertips through his hair and as Oscar lifted his face from the welcoming warmth of her shoulder, he saw her looking down at him, her mouth caught in a smile he’d never seen before: a genuine one. _Thank you,_ she said, and suddenly he hated how surprised she sounded, to hear that someone cared for her. _You’re so sweet_ , she said.

_That’s more like it, Sister. You should mean it when you smile!_

_I’ll try,_ said Teresa softly. Her hand still rested against his back. _For you, Oscar._

—

When he visits his sister on his way to Loegres, it’s the smile she gives upon seeing him – the memory of which helped buoy him through the harsh days at Titania – that instantly melts away the perpetual cold in the city surrounding them. It doesn’t last long, of course: Teresa’s face falls the moment she notices the scar where an eye should be, her voice breaking with pain and anger – anger _for his sake_ , Oscar quickly realizes – and although the church is quiet and only the vacant pews are there to witness them, he does not close the gap between them to pull her close the way he would have if he were ten, if he were eight, a child rushing towards his elder sister after falling down and scraping his elbow.

If he didn’t know any better he would claim they’re both too old for that now. There are things that failed to wither away with time, but she is an adult and so is he, and this isn’t a mistake a bandage and a gentle scolding can repair. This is failure on his part, plain and simple, and as much as it consoles him to see his sister try and be strong for him, he can’t help but feel no small guilt at the fact she has to do so at all. She’s always been the one to protect him, but they have their duties and she can’t always be there to watch over him, no matter how it hurts her. Keeping her worries at bay should be the least he could do in exchange. Pain cuts shadows into Teresa’s eyes despite her attempt to keep her composure; she’s always been an expert in masking her feelings, but she should know the effort is wasted on him.  

Teresa takes hold of his hand. “Worry not,” she is saying, perhaps more to herself than to him. “This is not the end of the world.”

The smile on her face now is something restrained – more adult. Inside it lurks the shadow of her of ten years ago, a girl who thought of herself as unwanted telling him he has nothing to worry about as though he couldn’t see his father’s and relatives’ looks of contempt, couldn’t hear the threatening undercurrent whenever he received an admonishment for treating her as a sister rather than a housemaid. He should be the one to reassure her, telling her the very same words she’s saying, except he can’t exactly do that now, can he? For it is his fault her heart is toiling for him, and with the Abbey calling, he can’t even stay by her side. Oscar can only hope his expression doesn’t betray the shame he feels. It would only hurt her more.

“To be honest, I was hoping you would cheer me up like that.” That, at least, is the truth.

She’s wearing the earrings he gave her. They really do look beautiful on her. She brightens considerably when he mentions them, admiring the shimmering blue with a self-consciousness she wouldn’t have shown anyone else, and it only serves to remind him how long they’ve been apart that he’s almost startled at her demeanor. He wonders if she gets lonely often, in this frigid land of a city where everyone sees her as a title first and foremost.

But he can’t allow himself to dwell on such thoughts for long. Oscar takes his leave with a formal gesture and steady footsteps, but he turns his shoulder away just slowly enough to catch the moment his sister’s expression begins to crumble, and it’s enough to remind him how weak and inexperienced he really is. Both as an exorcist, and as a man.

He doesn’t want her to look at him like that ever again.

That is why, Oscar tells himself, he must become stronger. He must try. For the sake of the Abbey, and for the sake of peace.

But most of all, for her.


End file.
